Page 37 of Dancing With Delusion

I roll my eyes, irritated that she’s interrupting my game. “Really, at half-six in the morning?”

“Yes, there are some issues with staffing. I need you here now,” she orders, which just infuriates me further, but I can use this situation to my advantage.

“On my way, Vivian.” I make sure to use her name, allowing it to linger on my lips while alerting Victoria to where I will be going. Her eyes dart open and she looks positively pissed. I smirk down at her before disconnecting the call, then I reach up and release her arms from the restraints.

“My attention is required elsewhere.” I wink at her before leaving, not giving her a chance to create a scene. The aftercare will have to be addressed later. Besides, what she really needs now is some rest.

Tori

He fucking stalked out of here, leaving me yet again. For her. This is becoming a habit, one which he seems to delight in.

I’m exhausted both emotionally and sexually right now, and all logical thinking has left.

I wrap a towel around myself and make my way up to our bedroom on unsteady feet. If this arsehole thinks he can use and abuse me, then leave me for his little skank, he has another thing coming.

As I make my way up the stairs, I bump into Marshall, who’s ready in his running gear. He must be healing.

“Everything okay, Tori?” He eyes me suspiciously, as if he can sense I’m about to do something crazy. I smile at him, willing my face not to give away my treachery.

“Yep, I’m just going for a bath and to bed. It was a long night.” I laugh, hoping to dispel any of his worries.

He nods and jogs down the stairs towards the door. I know I have enough time now to put my plan into action.

I slam the door behind me, dropping the towel. This fucker wants to see crazy, so crazy is what he will get.

I enter the walk-in wardrobe, pulling out one of his tailored suits. Expensive. I grin to myself as I pull out a pair of scissors from my dressing table, my lips curling at the corners as I imagine his reaction.

I shred his suit into strips and stand in front of the mirror as I wrap the torn-up material around my breasts, barely covering them as I secure the material with a safety pin.

I take another shred of the suit and wrap it around my waist so it covers my modesty to some degree. I admire myself in the mirror, throwing my head back in a laugh while recalling how furious he was when I arrived in just my lingerie and a raincoat. Well, today, Mr Volkov, you get to meet Miss Fucking Deranged.

I book an Uber and slide on one of Dmitry’s suit jackets so I don’t give the driver heart failure.

As I get in the taxi, I reel off the address for the bar he shares with Vivian. I fidget nervously in the back as the driver looks at me in the rearview mirror curiously. Pull yourself together, Tori, I inwardly scold myself.

I know this goes against what Harriet has been teaching me, but since when did talking work? Besides, I tried that already.

My mind wanders, those intrusive thoughts pushing their way in, and I wonder to myself what the fuck I’ll do if he has Vivian bent over his desk, and whether my heart can take walking in on that. I take a deep breath, trying to settle my nerves. If that’s what I walk in on, then at least I’ll know for sure and I’ll leave with my head held high. I won’t be second best. I won’t share.

The taxi pulls up outside the bar, and I thank the driver as I get out.

I take a moment outside on the pavement to gather myself. This is progress, right? At least I’m thinking it through. Harriet is wrong—this isn’t an impulsive decision at all.

I enter the bar and find Nik standing in the doorway. His eyes widen as I enter.

“What the fuck are you doing here, Victoria? And where’s Marshall?” he whisper-hisses.

My heels click along the floor as I flip him off. I don’t have time for this prick, and he doesn’t like me anyway, so why the fuck does he care?

I push the glass doors open, and everyone turns at the sound. My eyes scan the table where Vivian sits next to my man. They’re accompanied by his father and his security detail, but I don’t let the audience put me off. I have a score to settle.

I give them a venomous smile as I approach. Dmitry stands abruptly, his rage already evident on his face, but he is yet to see the amazing outfit I put together just for him.

Stopping in my tracks before I get too close, I slowly unfasten the suit jacket. Dmitry’s eyes widen in panic at the realisation of what I’m about to do.

“Morning, all,” I gush. I open the last button and slide his jacket from my arms. It pools at my feet. “Lovely of you to invite me along.”

Dmitry rushes in front of me, picking up his jacket and grabbing me by the arm. He shoves me forward, away from the wide eyes of his companions.

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